


with a bang

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Empires (Band), The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom didn't expect to run into Mike again. Like, ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with a bang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



Sean couldn't move to LA without help, because Sean couldn't do a lot of things without help, and he had some kind of masculinity crisis about asking Kristen's dad, so Tom ended up driving a UHaul from Chicago to LA.

"Look at apartments while you're there," Danielle had said, throwing t-shirts at him while he packed his duffel bag. "I'm working on that transfer at work. I'm going to get it and we're going to be warm and tan all the time and never see winter again."

Tom didn't mind winter. He didn't mind summer, either, though, so it wasn't worth fighting about.

He didn’t really get why he got the UHaul and Sean drove the hatchback that was way more suited for both Chicago and LA traffic, but he eventually did bring the thing right into its resting place outside the apartment complex in Santa Monica, so it worked out okay.

When they finished unloading all of Sean and Kristen’s shit, they went out for beers, of course; beers after moving was a time-honored tradition and the only way to tell that all was right with the world. They chose some random bar with a view of the beach, and Tom went in to order a round and find a table while the other two ducked into a beach shop buy matching t-shirts so Kristen could have the perfect post-move Facebook header.

Tom didn’t get it, but he got it. Cute couple shit. It was a thing.

He walked into the bar and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, blinking as his eyes adjusted. It looked like every other bar he’d ever been in, really. They could’ve played a show here any one of a million times. He kind of felt at home.

The feeling was shattered when he turned to order their drinks and got a look at the bartender.

Mike fucking Carden, a million years and a couple thousand years later. Short hair, now, glasses, a tranquil expression that Tom didn’t recognize, and two beer bottles in his hands instead of a guitar. Still. Tom knew him immediately, felt it in his veins and bones. Old friends and old enemies were always like that, ghosts he carried around.

Mike glanced up, looking over the top of his glasses for a moment and then blinking and lifting his chin to look through them. “Tom?”

Tom was holding the UHaul keys in one hand and the fanny pack Sean had used to carry all their special documents across the country in the other. Mike’s face didn’t change, the familiar icy judgment didn’t appear, but Tom conjured it up out of memory anyway. “Mike.”

“Wow. Small world.” Mike picked up a towel and dried his hands carefully, looking down at what he was doing like it was really important to make sure he dried between every finger. “You out here for a show?”

“No. No, uh.” The door opened again, and Tom took a step closer to the bar to clear the entryway. “Helping a buddy move.”

“Nice.” Mike slung the towel over his shoulder and looked at Tom again, and it _still_ wasn’t judgy or cold, and Tom still didn’t know what to do with it. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh. Three Dos Equis, I guess.”

“Your buddy joining you or are you just going to drink three in a row?” Mike lined the bottles up on the bar as he asked, then went back down the line popping the caps off. Tom stared at his hands to keep from looking at his face.

“He’s joining me. They are. Him and his girlfriend.”

“That table in the back is packing up to leave. You can grab it in like five minutes, once we wipe it down.”

Tom stared at the beers, then at Mike’s chest, then at the people packing up their stuff at the table. This was so aggressively normal, it had to be a trap. Nothing else made sense.

“Why are you here?” he asked, blurting it out after a too-long silence. It was answered with another one, and after a minute he looked up.

Mike was watching him with a twist to his mouth that definitely wasn’t a smile, but wasn’t a scowl, either. Grim amusement, maybe. Something in that direction. “I work here.”

“I meant--”

Mike shrugged and nudged the beers toward the edge of the bar. “Go sit, I’ll tell Ricardo to come wipe down the table.”

Tom went, and sat, and drank his beer really fast, and when Sean and Kristen got there he made them sit so they blocked his view of the bar, because he didn’t want to be a weird creep and stare at Mike Carden all night, he really didn’t. He wanted to be cool, and natural, and get through the evening without a psychotic break. That didn’t seem like much to ask for.

Sean ruined it all, of course.

He went up for the second round of beers, and came back grinning. “Tom! Dude, the bartender, that’s Mike Carden!”

Tom thought about throwing his empty bottle at Sean’s head, but stuck with just saying, “I know.”

“He looks so different! Man! Back in the day, he would’ve kicked his own ass if he saw himself like that. Shit, we’re old.” Sean laughed and put his hand on Kristen’s thigh. “Hon, did I ever tell you about Mike Carden? We were all kids in the scene at the same time. Tom was in The Academy with him.”

“Oh.” Kristen made a sympathetic face at Tom. “That’s nice, babe.”

“I haven’t seen him in forever.” Sean rested his chin in his free hand. “We should meet up with him when he gets off-shift, Tommy. Talk about the old days.”

“My old days with him sucked, if you don’t remember.”

“That’s all in the past. Everything’s different now, you know? Everything’s awesome.” Sean took a drink. “Besides, you can rub it in his face that you’re in a successful band and he’s tending bar. Oh how the worm has turned!”

Tom didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t feel like it described how he was feeling.

Kristen glanced at her watch. “I’m going to head back after this one and start unpacking. If you guys do decide to go out, text me so I’m not waiting up for you. And be careful. You can’t just get drunk and pass out in alleyways here like you can at home.”

Sean blinked at her. “Why not?”

Tom zoned out for a while, letting them flirt and giggle and banter, only shaking himself out of it when Kristen took the fanny pack, kissed him on the forehead, and left.

Sean was waving over his shoulder at Carden. “Mike! Mikey, hey, come sit with us!”

“I’m working, man,” Mike said patiently. “I’ve got a break in twenty, though.”

“Why did you do that?” Tom kicked Sean under the table. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t. You’ll see.” Sean nodded and killed his beer, then stood up. “I’ve got a major vibe, I’m telling you. You want another beer?”

“No.” Tom watched Sean walk to the bar and felt the interesting sensation of fear becoming reality in real time as Sean ordered whiskey straight, no chaser. That was Sean’s “gonna hook up with a dude” drink. Fuck Sean and Kristen’s open relationship and fuck Sean’s loose zipper. This was probably going to be the worst night of Tom’s life.

Sean stayed at the bar for the whole twenty minutes, drinking his whiskey and flirting with Carden in super-obvious ways that made Tom want to either roll his eyes or puke. Sean didn’t get like this often, but when he did, man. It was like watching a cat in heat, if cats liked to show off their biceps and lean in really close for meaningful staring.

Carden just kept making drinks and nodding and every so often glancing back at the corner where Tom was sitting. Probably making sure Tom knew what was going on, just to rub the humiliating awkwardness in a little more. Tom should’ve taken that third beer, or maybe started on straight whiskey himself. Fuck.

He shoved his chair back and walked over to the bar, ready to tell Sean that he was going back to the apartment to help Kristen. Sean was a big boy, he could get drunk and fuck a bartender all by himself. Hopefully he had a condom in his pocket, but if not, it wasn’t Tom’s problem, he was not Sean’s keeper, that wasn’t even his job on _tour_ anymore, it was Max’s job, and--

“Dude,” Mike said as Tom approached. “Sean, dude, whoa, I think maybe you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Oh.” Sean sat up straighter and raised his hands a little. “Sorry, man, I thought I felt a vibe.”

“That’s great.” Mike glanced at Tom and lifted his chin in a quick gesture. “But I really wanted to talk to Tom, if I can.”

“Oh!” Sean blinked, his eyes going all big like an owl’s. “Did not see that coming.”

Mike ignored him. “Tom?”

Tom wanted another beer. Badly. “I don’t think we’ve got anything to talk about, do we?”

Mike’s jaw tightened and for a minute Tom saw a version of him he recognized. “Just, like, five minutes, okay?”

“Whatever,” Tom muttered.

“Just come out back with me for five minutes. Sean can time it. If you don’t come back, he’ll call the cops.”

“What are you going to do that needs the cops?” Sean asked.

“Nothing! That’s my point. Just…” Mike exhaled sharply. “Fine. Forget it.”

“No, no, it’s cool. Tom. Go with him. Just talk. I’ll wait right here.”

Tom stared at him. “Of course you’ll wait here. Kristen took the car.”

Mike snorted with laughter and for some reason that was the thing that made it click in Tom’s head. He did want to talk to Mike, just for five minutes. Maybe he could clear out some of the years-old karmic junk in his head. And if not, they could talk shit about Sean.

“Okay,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Mike took him out through the kitchen, which was an exceptionally gross glimpse into the bar’s underside and left Tom making a mental note to tell Kristen never to _eat_ there. Outside, the air was just as warm and stifling as in the kitchen, and smelled worse due to the proximity of the dumpsters, but it was relatively quiet, and they were alone.

Mike leaned against the wall and sighed slowly, rolling his neck. “Long fucking day.”

“Worse than driving a van?” It was the only common ground they had, even if it was laced with land mines and, like, tiger traps. Tom didn’t know what else to say.

Mike smiled faintly. “I guess not.”

“No show at the end of it, though.”

“No.” Mike shrugged a little and tilted his head back, looking up at the buzzing cloud of insects around the safety light mounted above him. “I saw you guys on Letterman.”

Tom’s heart jumped in his chest, up toward his throat then diving for his kidneys. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good.”

Tom had to laugh, a tight little sound starving for oxygen. “You know, that’s all I ever fucking wanted to hear from you? Like… ever?”

Mike shrugged again. “I know it now. I didn’t then.”

“What did you think I wanted?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t understand… anything, I guess.” Mike sighed. “I’d do it different if I could do it again.”

“Is that an apology?”

“I guess so.” Mike glanced at him. “What, you want me to get down on my knees?”

Tom’s heart jumped again, and he wrapped his fingers around the UHaul keys in his pocket, distracting himself with the bite of the metal into his skin. “Danielle might not be chill about that.”

“Oh man. Danielle.” Mike shook his head. “How much does she want me dead, still?”

“Pretty much a lot. Completely, actually. She wants you completely dead.”

“I figured.” Mike pushed himself off the wall and stepped toward Tom. “Well, I guess I can’t make anything worse, then, can I?”

Tom realized that Mike was going to kiss him before it actually happened, and he didn’t pull away. Mike’s mouth was soft, and Tom wondered in the back of his head if he used chapstick; he had a little bit of stubble on his jaw that scratched against Tom’s own; and he _lingered_ in the kiss, he lingered like they were in a fucking movie.

“Is Sean actually going to call the cops?” Mike asked.

“No.” Tom’s hand brushed against Mike’s wrist. “But he might come looking.”

“You probably are headed back to Chicago tomorrow, anyway.”

“New York. But yeah.”

“So you probably need to get going.”

Tom nodded and took a step back. It felt like he was breaking through water, or stepping out of the wind. “I guess so. Sean’ll be in all the time, though, I bet.”

“Is he going to hit on me all the time?”

“Probably.” Tom took a deep breath. “And if you ever do sleep with him, I’ll hear all about it, fair warning.”

“I won’t.”

“You never know. Things change.”

“Ha. Yes.” Mike took a deep breath and opened the door, gesturing for Tom to go inside. “Maybe if you ever come visit again, you can look me up.”

“Yeah, maybe. You ever hold shows here?”

“We won’t be able to afford you much longer.” With the light behind him Mike looked like a ghost while Tom walked away.

Tom didn’t want that. He was tired of being haunted.

“Dammit,” he muttered, and turned on his heel, catching Mike full-on and pushing him back out the door into the alley. “Just--dammit, how does this always happen, how do you mess me up?”

“I do it to everybody,” Mike said, his voice more honest than Tom was ready for, and Tom shoved him against the wall and kissed him to keep him from saying anything else.

They stayed still for a long time, Mike’s hand on the small of Tom’s back, lips pressed together, sharing breath. When Mike finally broke away, he lifted his hand and brushed Tom’s hair off his forehead.

“I would definitely do it different,” he said.

Tom nodded. “Me too.”


End file.
